


let there be light (let me be right)

by wordswithdragons



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Rayllum Birthday Bash 2020, So much hurt/comfort, also if u like 'if time is money' then you'll like this too lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25040998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswithdragons/pseuds/wordswithdragons
Summary: A collection for my Rayllum Birthday Bash prompts.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 182





	1. so give it all to me and i'll give mine to you

**Author's Note:**

> fic title is from "sun" by sleeping at last. chapter title is from "issues" by julia michaels, covered by alex newell.

Halfway through June, Rayla grew fidgety in a way that was different from her typical restlessness. Now, don’t get Callum wrong — sometimes she could be the laziest person on Earth, especially since they’d moved to Katolis and lived in the castle together. At first she’d found the servants irritable, unused to the service and the lingering wariness, but once she’d realized she could have food brought to her in bed sometimes... well, being waited on had its perks.

And it was true that her restlessness has died down since they made their trip to the Moon Nexus almost a year ago, even if it hadn’t quite had the closure she’d been hoping for. They’d had a nice year at the castle, stealing jelly tarts with Ezran and sparring in the courtyard with Soren, attending diplomatic meetings here and there to help smooth things over between the human kingdoms and Xadia. 

Callum had even been kind of excited for June. Late May was their anniversary of meeting, and they’d agreed them getting together as a couple was _sometime_ in late mid to late June, just a month shy of their birthdays. He’d planned on treating most of the month like an anniversary month, even if it wasn’t like everything that had happened in that month had been happy.

He and Ez had been to visit Harrow’s grave next to their mother’s earlier that week.

But it was a new year. Soon the start of him and Rayla’s second year as a couple with one behind them. Wasn’t that exciting? Wasn’t that also the miracle and hope they’d spoken of, of breaking the cycle when huddled around campfires during the war?

They slept apart in their separate beds more often in summer, ‘cause the heat made long term cuddling almost unbearable, but Callum had still heard her waking in the night or would see that she hadn’t slept much at all the past few days. She had less patience with Soren. It was when she got a bit snippy with Ezran and left lunch early that Callum realized something more was wrong and went after her.

He wasn’t surprised to find her sitting on her bed and staring blankly at the floor in their room, nor did she look up when he entered and shut the door behind him. Faint evening light streamed out of their window as he took a seat next to her.

“I’ll apologize to Ez later,” she mumbled.

“And I’m sure he’ll accept it,” Callum said, unfazed. Ez was sensitive but he didn’t tend to take things _personally_. Callum reached over and took Rayla’s hand, slowly intertwining their fingers. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked gently.

Rayla sighed and dropped her head a little. “It’s... I keep having nightmares about the Silvergrove. It’s—it’s the anniversary today.”

It felt like he’d just down aspiro and had no more air left in his lungs as he stared at the ground for a moment. “Oh.” He’d been expecting something like his own anniversary trauma to happen to her closer to the end of the month, of when she’d almost stayed behind at the Spire to die for what turned out to be a lie and misunderstanding, or when she’d thrown herself off the Spire. Not now. 

But, in retrospect, Callum supposed he should’ve seen this coming. He squeezed her hand, directing his attention back to her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I wasn’t thinking about the date.” 

She turned to him. “No, it’s okay. You were dealing with your stuff about your dad a little while ago, you don’t also have to keep track of all mine, I just...”

“Nightmares?” he guessed, reaching up and brushing her hair from her face.

Rayla nodded, miserable. “I know it’s hot at night, but...”

“I’ll sleep next to you, if that helps?” She gave another nod and he kissed her forehead. “Okay. If you don’t mind telling me, what the nightmares are like? If they’re recurring?” It would help if he knew what she was likely waking up from before it happened, when she may be too emotionally distraught to explain.

“It tends to be the same dream over and over,” Rayla admitted, rubbing her wrist that had been bound against her thigh. “At first I’m in the Silvergrove and I’m Ghosted, again, but then I’m here, and—” Her breathing hitched and Callum’s heart twisted. “You guys have Ghosted me too and I have nowhere to go.”

“Oh, Rayla.” Callum shifted and pulled her into his arms. “That’ll never happen. You always have a home here, _no matter what,_ okay?”

Rayla buried her face in his shoulder, but her voice sounded steadier if still tearful. “I know.”

“Good.” Callum held her for a while until her breathing had totally evened out, just rubbing her back, before he suggested, “Why don’t we go apologize to Ez and make some jelly tarts, huh? Help take your mind off things?”

She managed a tiny but grateful smile. “Yeah, that sounds good.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Callum.”

He smiled back at her and squeezed her hand. “Always.”

* * *

Sweet words and simple truths in the daytime couldn’t keep nightmares, built quite literally on dark irrationality, from coming. Rayla woke up in a cold sweat and Callum was beside her in a flash, his hands on her shoulders and turning her tear streaked face towards his worried one. Somewhere between the waking and the crying he’d lit a candle, the flickering light casting shadows over both of their forms. She’d knocked over one of the vases with a flower for their friendship anniversary off the bedside table, and it lay broken on the floor, but neither of them paid it any mind.

“Same dream,” she rasped, her lips barely moving.

Callum took a deep breath and then took her face in his hands, bringing their foreheads together. His eyes bore into hers and it was both intense and comforting. He’d always been able to see her better than she’d wanted him too, through her lies and deflections and rough exterior. He _knew_ her in a way no one else ever had, regardless of any romance. It felt like, to everyone else, her armour was perfectly sealed, but with him, he could see the cracks and peer inside no matter how much she tried not to let him. Why let him, if she was a broken vase that couldn’t be glued back together?

“I can see you,” he said. “I _promise_.”

Rayla placed her hands over his and closed her eyes, trusting that the dark could be comforting too—that eventually this anniversary wouldn’t hurt as much—if he was here with her. “I know.” Opened her eyes to look back at him, because she could see _him_ too.

Because, then again, maybe cracks were how the light got in.


	2. is it my fault (we've been missing each other?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title is from "my fault" by imagine dragons. Written for Prompt 2, Mistake / Amends

They slog, exhausted, into the Moon Nexus and gobble down whatever Lujanne feeds them, a far more energetic baby dragon at their heels. All Rayla wants to do is sleep, but she knows the second any of them lay down to sleep, that’s all they’ll be able to do, and they don’t want to sully clean sheets and the first beds any of them have slept on in days (or at least one, for Ellis). 

“We should clean our clothes,” Rayla says as Lujanne leads them through the Nexus. A small pool and connected stream burbles nearby. Her vest has borne the brunt of it, and Ezran’s tunic isn’t too bad —the front of it was usually covered by Bait or the egg she supposes—but Callum’s jacket is filthy. He still has cobwebs sticking to his elbow.

“Do we have to?” Ezran whines. There’s a slight sniffle in his voice and it reminds her his cold isn’t long gone, either, and that sleep is important.

“Fine,” she relents. “You and Ellis and Ava can go, but Callum and I should still wash up a bit.” 

Callum is too tired to argue, probably, even if he trudges after her with a frown once Lujanne’s summoned some towels for them. The pool isn’t far and Rayla shucks her shoes off by the shore. She’ll dunk her vest in and then herself and then they can rest.

Callum removes his jacket and his scarf and Rayla realizes it’s the first time she’s seen him without either of them, as he discards each article of clothing after a disgusted sniff. He’s thinner without each, but there’s something about just the set of his tunic against his throat that makes him look a bit older, somehow. Then he took off his shoes and socks and went to pull his tunic over his head, and Rayla hastily averts her own gaze. Best to get on with it for both of them.

“Don’t look until I tell you to,” she says and she can see his ears turn red, the rest of his face covered by his tunic.

Callum spins around so his back is to her. “Yeah, sure, of course!” he squeaks and Rayla manages an eyeroll. Dumb prince. 

Then, without looking at him, Rayla goes to lift up her outerwear. All assassin outfits have a thin under layer of fabric to keep the otherwise tight fabric from chafing and yeah, it’s thin, but she’s still  _ covered _ , so. Rayla fights down the heat in her cheeks even while Callum is turned the other way. It’s not weird unless she lets it be. One of three of them were bound to walk in on the other going to the bathroom at one point, too, or if one of them got injured in the thigh or chest or whatever, they’d have to get over the awkwardness to tend to the wound. Now is as good a time as any, in a non life threatening or incredibly embarrassing scenario, to nip some of that possible awkwardness in the bud.

The black and green fabric is a clump on the ground before she gathers it up and wades out into the water with it, leaving only her belt behind. She doesn’t like  _ swimming _ but bathing is practical and she stays close enough so that her feet can always touch the bottom, the waterbed made of smooth, tiny white rocks, and Rayla lets herself sink in the water to her shoulders before she calls out, “Okay, you can look now.” 

Callum, to his credit, turns around very slowly, his tunic half held over his eyes before he cracks one open, then the other, and then seems to sag with relief as he lets out a breath. Then his face scrunches. “I thought you hated water?"

“I do,” Rayla says, “but I also have to stay clean, you know.” She dunks her vest in the water and douses her outer tunic as Callum approaches the shoreline and takes each and lays them on nearby rocks to dry a bit. Their towels are folded on another two rocks to keep them as clean as possible. 

Callum also has enough foresight to get his tunic wet and lay it to dry before he hops in the water with just his opaque red-checkered underwear on, and it’s strange to see someone enjoying the water a little, as he swims further out than where she stands. They’re both exhausted, but the water must be at least slightly invigorating to him, as Rayla combs some of the cobwebs out of her hair and rinses it. 

Callum is also a stronger swimmer than she is—unsurprisingly, maybe—and she wonders who taught him. Runaan tried to teach her, but... was it his father, the now fallen king? Or his mother, fallen years before then? He paddles his way back over to her, his hair plastered to the corners of his grin.

“What’s got you so cheery?” she asks.

“Nothing,” he smiles. “It’s just nice to be clean.” And then he sends a little splash her way. 

The affronted look on her face must be funny because he laughs and Rayla responds by sending a much larger splash his way, using both of her arms. She’s not going to engage in something as childish as a splash fight—especially when she just wants to  _ sleep _ —but, if she  _ hypothetically _ did, then she was going to win it, too. 

Callum skirts away, swimming easily with the water by his waistline as he turns away, that Rayla gets a good look at his back, and her heart drops. There’s a large, green bruise on the small of his back with just traces of purpling, and just the sight of it looks painful. She racks her brain to remember how he could’ve gotten it—hadn’t she done a good job of keeping the boys safe? No, nothing ever  _ hit _ him, not like that—before she remembers.

She’d kicked him squarely in the back that first night, when he’d been running away from her. Kicked hard and firm and knocked him down to the floor before advancing on him with her swords. That painful looking bruise was from  _ her _ , and was still on his body almost five days later. Rayla swallows.

It’s not often now—which feels a lifetime removed from who she was before she met them, already—that Rayla dwells on how she met the boys, and Callum, but it’s not lost on her that it’s a hard story to explain. She thinks of how Callum’s smile had melted when introducing her to Ellis, at first fond and reminiscing, before he remembered just how things had gone.  _ Ellis, this is Rayla, who we originally met because... she broke into our castle... trying to kill Ezran _ . There’s no delicate way to put it.

And apparently no delicate remnants, either, if the bruise is any indication.  They’re here, aren’t they, to make amends for their parents and their peoples’ mistakes, but that doesn’t mean it’s all going to be effortless, or that their start was. Even if that doesn’t take away the sickly feeling of guilt in her stomach. She hopes the bruise hasn’t hurt him too much, with carrying a pack all day as well.

For a second, she wants to swim up—he’s less than a foot away—and touch it, but squashes that insane urge. What is she thinking? It’ll be awkward and she’ll make it weird, and it’s not like Callum probably cares, either. She can apologize for it later if she wants to, if it isn’t already clear she regrets how they met for more reasons than just one with the way she’d die to keep him safe. Even if she’ll  _ never _ regret _ meeting _ him. And Ezran, of course.

She realizes too late that Callum has swum very close to her, close enough she can see the water droplets clinging to his hair as he raises his head and studies her face. “Hey, you okay? You look kinda zoned out.”

Rayla nudges him away. “Fine,” she says, trying for a tired smile, which is honestly the only smile she can muster right now anyway. “Just tired.”

“Ah,” Callum smiles, always looking on the bright side. “Reckon we’re clean enough already, huh? Do you wanna get out first? I can turn around.” 

The consideration for her comfort and the clear care in his eyes makes her smile soften, and Rayla nods as Callum does just that as she inches out of the water. It’s been a warm summer so far but night air on wet skin and clothes is still cool, as she towels herself off and then tugs her outer garments back on, leaving her vest. Her green and black tunic is still damp but it’ll dry eventually, as she does up her belt buckle. 

“I’m done,” she announces, and she sits and dries her hair off some more as Callum rises and wipes the water away with his own towel, shimmying back into his pants and boots and clothes, looping a still damp scarf around his neck. His bruise now fully covered by his tunic and his coat.

Rayla almost asks if it hurts, but catches herself in time, and doesn’t say a thing. They all know she regrets attacking the princes, that hurting Callum or threatening to hurt Ezran was a mistake. Why bring attention to another one of hers, when she knows it’s only a matter of time before they see the stream of lies she’s left to cover up their father’s death?

Callum grins at her, and she knows if there was a moment to be had, she’s missed it. (Like always.) “You ready to go?”

But she mirrors him anyway, her lips curving. She’ll just have to do a better job at protecting him from now on. “Yeah,” she says. “Let’s go.”

She would miss his smile more anyway.

* * *

They’re at the Storm Spire when she sees the bruise for the second time. After the battle they’re grimy and exhausted and just want to eat, and after those needs are filled, Rayla decides they’re long overdue for a bath. Desert dust still clings to Callum’s scarf and the bridge of her nose is sunburnt and peeling. It’s a relief, once she unlocks one of the rooms that used to house the Dragonguard, and the attached bathrooms that still —through some miracle of magic, maybe—having running water and basins to fill. 

She presses cool wet cloths to Callum’s neck, first. Luckily his scarf took the brunt of the burning from Kasef’s fiery hands, but the skin is still sensitive. He presses the cloth to his own neck as she lets go before his free hand reaches up to capture her own, and he kisses the inside of her wrist that had been bound what feels like months ago, even if it’s only been a few weeks. It still hurts from trying to break her way out of Viren’s ice trap earlier, but Callum’s soft kiss is like a soothing balm—a reminder that she’s no longer bound to a bloody mission she refuses to complete or trapped by a mad mage.

The battle is over and the war is won and they’re both alive—and alone for the first time since. Everyone is sleeping at the Spire tonight, Ezran cuddled close with Zym in the Dragon Queen’s inner chambers. Soren stayed too, along with Corvus. Callum and Rayla would’ve stayed there as well, if there were any more bedrolls and if, after everything, they didn’t just need a moment for each other.

Processing the insanity of the day and how much had happened comes in waves and Callum is the only thing that makes her feel like she can  _ breathe _ . Rayla exhales and lets her forehead rest against his for a moment before she pulls away. “Come on. You can wash up first and I’ll scrub at your tunic.”

“Thank you,” he says, his tone and eyes grateful. He tugs his tunic up and over his head, his scarf already coiled beside him as he sits on the bed, and Rayla takes it and does as she said with another, bit soapier, rag as he washes up in the other room. Bless Ibis for knowing something about bodily hygiene, too.

There might be distraction (read: attraction) in other circumstances but a dead tired feeling weighs her down even once Callum comes back and reaches for his shirt. He winces as he raises his arms—it turns out that suddenly having wings without proper practice or workout training makes one’s shoulders painfully sore—and Rayla gives him a sympathetic smile once the shirt has settled.

Then another thought hits her, breaking through the fog. She wraps her arms around him and lets her fingers skirt up and a little under his shirt. The bruise on his back must have entirely faded by now (bruises only tend to last two weeks) but she remembers the place of it, as her fingers press into the small of his back. Callum startles and then settles, but he doesn’t wince. It must not hurt anymore, as he mostly looks confused.

“I kicked you here,” she explains. “I saw the bruise, that day we washed up at the Moon Nexus. I didn’t know how to say sorry for it then.”

His arms loop around her waist and he tilts her head with a smile. “I think you more than made up for it when you saved my life that night,” he says. Runaan had been about to shoot him after all.

“Still.”

Callum rubs his nose against hers. “Apology accepted, then. Now wash up, so we can go to sleep.”

Something in her chest eases, at how  _ easy _ it was, even if she leaves him a little reluctantly. It feels good to strip and wash and crawl into marginally cleaner clothes, and then his warm arms. At the knowledge that, although they can’t promise to never hurt each other, nor can they erase the hurt they’ve already caused, but... That amends and fading bruises are possible, for them and their world.

Rayla strokes her thumb over his cheek and Callum closes his eyes, trusting that her touch will be gentle and she treasures this moment, as she leans in and kisses him softly. They’ll always heal each other  _ more _ than hurt, and that’s what matters most.


	3. your love is like a river (that i am floating down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for prompt 3: travel, title from "what i wouldn't do" by serena ryder

It was their first night on the way back to Katolis, after three days of recuperating at the Spire, and the exhaustion from battle still hadn’t totally worn off yet. Callum could see in the weary set of Rayla’s shoulders and the relief, commiserating look they shared when the armies finally settled down with a groan to make camp. The two of them had a tent to set up for the first time on their journey, plus bedrolls, so it was a better situation than they had had by far as they curled up together. Trees framed the overall quiet campsite, since the combined forces were taking the long away around the Midnight Desert.

So of course, stupidly, Callum felt very awake. Maybe the fear of being on the run hadn’t totally left him, yet.

“You too, huh?” Rayla said, her eyes bright in the dark, their hands clasped together.

“Think we can snag a horse to ride tomorrow so we can sleep in shifts?” he asked. Ezran and Soren were sharing a horse, befitting of a king and his crownguard.

“Maybe if you use your  _ princely _ powers,” she said with something akin to a smirk, even if she knew he didn’t really like (read: feel too confident) pulling rank. But he would, for her. Of course he would.

Callum laced their fingers together and raised her hand to kiss the back of it. “For you? Anything.” 

Rayla turned a pretty shade of red, unsure of what to do beyond rolling her eyes now that he’d made it sappy and heartfelt, and Callum just giggled as she turned her eyes back to him. Then they softened, turning thoughtful, and he stroked his thumb over the back of her knuckles.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“Honestly?” she said, a tiny smile forming on her face. “I’m just glad that with an army this big, we won’t have to take a boat again.” 

Callum laughed. “And here I thought it was going to be something sappy or profound,” he teases.

Rayla poked his cheek with her finger. “I didn’t want to intrude on your territory. Although I suppose if I had to actually  _ think  _ about it —” Her playfully pointed look coaxed another giggle out of him. “Some of our most important moments have happened on boats.” 

“They have?”

She rolled her eyes again, her smile just as persistent as before. “Yes, dummy. Don’t you remember that day we went down the rapids?”

At her words, the memory sparked. It was the first time he’d seen Rayla be decidedly  _ ungraceful _ , irritated and seasick. The first time she’d opened up to him, too. “I remember.” Callum smiled. “Y’know I still think I have a couple of questions left—”

“Like you haven’t asked a million since then.” 

“But you were kinda irritated with me by the end of it,” he remembered, “once we’d travelled down the rapids?”

“I certainly wasn’t pleased,” she confirmed. “And maybe was thinking about strangling you.” She toyed with his scarf for a moment and he grinned, the tip of his nose pressing into hers. “But your distraction worked and I remember hearing you talk about Xadia, and how incredible it was to you... I dunno. I think that’s when I realized that I could like you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And then you were very sweet, by pushing the boat away.” 

Callum smoothed out his face and puffed out his chest mock-self importantly. “Oh, well I can see that. Dashing prince, saving you from seasickness.” He couldn’t keep a straight face and Rayla shook her head, her nose wrinkled and her smile fond.

“And then,” she continued, now playing with his fingers between her own, “on Villads ship, when we were waiting for you to come back from the storm, is when I realized my feelings for you maybe went deeper than  _ liking _ .” 

He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her closer. “Is that so?” he said, a bit too breathlessly for it to be smug, and there was a satisfied glint in her eyes. He knew Rayla liked getting him flustered too, even if she got wonderfully sappy a bit less often.

“It’s funny, actually,” Rayla continued and he could tell she was thinking out loud, her brow doing that cute little crease thing. “Villads said to me at one point that life was like a river. That I couldn’t know where it would go or what turns it would take. All I could do was look at myself and figure out who I was and what I wanted to take a stand for. That once I did, I would find out where I was meant to be.” She reached up to caress his face, stroking her thumb over the curve of his cheek, and Callum’s eyes settled on her, peaceful but waiting for her to finish as she looked back at him. Her gaze softening. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that when I decided to take a stand and go after the dragon, you decided to run after me.”

Callum smiled and leaned into her touch, his heart swelling. “Is that your way of saying that you’re kinda meant to be with me?”

Rayla scooted closer, even as she arched a brow. “Is it?” she smiled into their kiss, soft and lips lingering before they drew apart. “But I also think it means that life is a journey in general, and... I already travelled down one river with you. Why not another?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he rested his forehead against hers. “I dunno if I wanna be holding your hair back constantly while you barf.” 

Rayla laughed and gave him a light shove, but the arm he had around her waist didn’t let her get far and she happily settled against him. “Of course you had to ruin it,” she smiled.

His cheek smushed against her moonlight hair. “Hey, you were being sappy and profound. I had to take your usual role by extension.” He pulled away to give her a serious look that she returned with an equally ‘serious’ pout. “Don’t intrude on my territory.” Rayla giggled and he softened. “But it was very sweet, and very profound, and I loved it. I want that, too.”

She let out a content sigh and snuggled against his chest, careful not to poke him with her horns. “I love you, Callum.”

He pressed a kiss to her hairline. “I love you too, Rayla.” He closed his eyes and heard her breathing even out, and felt sleepy tug at him too.

They would have another long day of travel ahead of them tomorrow, but... He smiled. As long as they were together, he could appreciate the journey.


	4. i learned that from you (mama, it’s amazing what baking can do)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for prompt four: baking / cooking. 
> 
> chapter title is from "what baking can do" from the musical "waitress."

One of the first orders of business once they get back to Katolis, Ezran declares, is to have Rayla enjoy a jelly tart. It’s a simple enough task, so once they’ve gotten Rayla settled for a couple of weeks and the matters that needed to be immediately dealt with by the king and Opeli, Callum lets Ezran lead the way down to Barius’ kitchens. It’s the baker one day off—he’d mentioned something about sharing a nice relaxing glass of wine with his husband—so they have the run of the place for the day.

Which means that, for lack of a better word, Callum is their chef for the day. He taught Ez how to make jelly tarts and a few other baked goods a couple of years ago, but at eight Ezran had been more interested in the delight of stealing them (“Half the fun,” he’d claimed) than the hard work of making them. 

It’d been important to Callum to at least try to pass it down, though. One of the very clear memories he had of his mother is watching her bake in the tiny cottage kitchen they’d lived in before, and then baking with her in the castle kitchens.

And now home is _different_ , with their dad gone (Harrow hadn’t time for baking except at the Lodge and Callum had never really had the nerve to join), and Rayla doesn’t _have_ a home anymore, and...

Callum just tells the two of them to wash their hands and what ingredients they’ll need, the actual jam and sweetness they’re going to fold the dough over. Rayla picks strawberry jam, which she claims is the closest to what Moonberry surprise tastes like, and Ezran picks persimmon, which was Sarai’s favourite, too. Callum picks a bit of both so that if either his girlfriend’s or his brother’s batches for some reason tank, they won’t be fully without the jelly tart of their choice. 

Ezran sneaks Bait some uncooked dough and Callum lets it slide, mostly, with a shake of his head.

Rayla giggles as the glow toad’s slimy tongue flicks over one of his bulging eyes in the aftermath. She nudges Ezran gently in the ribs with her elbow. “You know, if you give him too much dough, you won’t have enough left for the tarts.” 

Ezran opens his mouth. “Yeah, but it’s a delicate balance. One that Bait and I have perfected.” And he turns back happily to folding his dough over into neat, only slightly sloppy triangles.

Callum’s already finished his (practiced hands help a lot) and doesn’t realize he’s spaced out until Rayla nudges him too. There’s a question and compassion in her eyes, but all she says is, “We should probably get these in the oven, huh?”

That snaps him out of it—or back into it, Callum supposes. He nods and quickly swallows. “Yeah. Good idea.” He helps Ez get his tray in the oven first, then his own. Gives Rayla’s jelly tarts a look over to see how well she managed the triangles (decently) before she hoists her tray in too. It’ll be good to get the tarts in now and then wait it out.

“Why don’t you go get Soren?” Rayla suggests to Ez. The crownguard had shift duty but it would be over by mid afternoon, which was soon. “I’m sure he’ll want a few.”

Or many, Callum thinks with a snort.

Ezran gives her a dubious look. “You want to share our tarts with him?”

Rayla reaches over and ruffles his hair. “He’ll whine if we don’t,” she says, which is true. “And we can make sure he eats Callum’s.” She winks. Ezran laughs as Callum lets out a scoffing sound, but he knows it’s all in good fun. And seeing Rayla be a good big sister to his little brother never fails to make his heart warm. 

So Ezran scampers off, and it’s only then that Rayla’s intentions become clear, turning back to him with that same concern in her eyes. “You okay?” she asks softly, reaching for his hand.

“Yeah,” he says, the response as automatic as the way he laces his fingers through hers. “Why do you ask?”

“You just seemed a bit... quiet,” Rayla explains. “Like you’re distracted by something in your mind.”

Callum purses his lips. “It’s... still weird being back. And my mom taught me how to bake, and I haven’t done it since dad died, so it just brings back memories, I guess. Good ones, but...”

Rayla squeezes his hand. “They make you sad, too?”

Because what was sadness if not the awareness of something being absent, whether in others or in yourself? Those memories would never be reality again, both of his parents slipping through his fingers and him helpless to hold on. 

“Yeah,” Callum says thickly. “My mom would talk about wanting to teach me how to bake things other than jelly tarts, but it was all I was interested in at like, five.” Rayla offers up a small, fond smile, and his eyes sting, but not in a bad way.

“Tiny Callum sounds like a cutie,” she says. Then, after a pause, “What happened?”

“Hey.” Callum swats her in the arm. “You think I’m plenty cute.”

“I do,” Rayla confirms, meeting his gaze before she waits him out. The brief reprieve can’t last forever.

“I just wish my mom could’ve taught me other things, too,” he admits. “Like...”

 _The castle is big_ , his mother had said in response to a child’s small but all consuming worry. Everything had seemed so much bigger back then, but in reality had been so much simpler. _But I knew I had to move here to be with Harrow once I made jelly tarts with him, see? It made him family. Families have to stay together. So you and I, we have to bake in our new home._

He’d stayed doubtful and she ruffled his hair. _It’ll get easier in time_ , Sarai had said with a twinkle in her bright brown eyes. _I promise_. 

Callum blinks in the present, his hand still clasped in Rayla’s, and he looks at her with new eyes. Maybe his mother had taught him more than he thought. Like how to build a new family. 

“Are the jelly tarts almost done?” chimes in Soren’s voice, jogging into the kitchens with Bait on his head and Ezran enjoying a piggyback ride. The young king ambles down and inspects the oven while Soren looks at Callum and then Rayla. “Ew, did we interrupt a mushy moment?” he sneers, but he’s smiling. 

Rayla looks to Callum, some slight concern still in her eyes, but Callum just squeezes her hand and smiles back. “Maybe,” he trills, and then leans forward and kisses her cheek close to her ear. His voice drops to a whisper. “Thank you.” He raises his head and his voice at the same time Soren sets Ezran, and then Bait down. “Now let’s check on the tarts, huh?”

His home and family may not have been what he’d expected, or even what he _wanted_ , but... Callum glances over at Ez and Soren (no surprises there), past the corner of the kitchen where his mother would have stood. Imagines how she’d done some baking alongside his stepfather. Then his eyes rest on Rayla and his whole body relaxes.

He’ll be just fine, in the end. His mother had taught him that, too.


	5. when there's no light to break up the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for prompt 5: nightmares / comfort.

It takes three weeks to travel back to Katolis, now that multiple armies need to take (and are allowed to take) proper breaks to rest and write home. It’s another three weeks after that before Callum goes up to the king’s tower again. At first, Ezran only has time to read and write letters and falls asleep doing so often enough that Soren carrying Ezran up to the tower isn't an unusual sight. Callum himself is catching up on sleep and rest and proper eating and Rayla adjusting to a castle of humans.

It’s only six weeks —just passing by of his and Rayla’s birthdays—that Ezran has time for more of a break, too, and insists on a card game. “You and me and Soren and Rayla!” he says, round face exuberant. “It’ll be fun!”

“It’ll be past your bedtime,” Opeli chimes in, which is nine o’clock sharp.

“Not if we’re playing cards in the king’s bedroom,” Soren says with a broad grin. “Then Ez can go right to sleep once we’ve wrapped up at like, 9:30. Please?”

Opeli exchanges a glance with Corvus, before she sighs, giving up on cleric status more and more every day and accepting being both an advisor and a babysitter. “Alright. But ten o’clock latest.” 

“Of course,” promises Ezran, and Callum knows his brother will keep it, mostly. (AKA 10:15pm is now fair game.) 

So that’s how they find themselves all head towards the king’s tower to play cards, one warm summer night. He’s gotten used to the rest of Katolis that stayed the same and the changes. The hallway where he and Rayla had met. The dungeons where they’d found the egg and stored away all the old dark magic stuff. The battlements where they’d last seen Runaan. The four of them had spent a couple days cleaning out Claudia’s old room. He’s sleeping in a new room with Rayla now too, but still has his old drawing desk. Somehow both everything and nothing has changed in the old castle. And yet...

Callum stops at the bottom of the tower steps and sees bodies strewn over the stone. Wonders if Viren had already done something to his dad, or whether Harrow had actually gotten to hear him call him that. Remembers the ache in his throat when Viren had stolen his voice, the terror of standing uselessly in battle, of having to turn and run because  _ Ezran needed him _ and now his father is—

“Callum?” Rayla’s hand rests on his shoulder and a shaky breath brackets him back to the present. Ez and Soren are a few steps ahead. If Ezran can sleep in the room where Harrow was killed, if Soren can return here, then why can’t Callum? “Are you okay?”

He feels pale and shaky but hopes it doesn’t show under the dim torchlight. “Yeah.” He extends his arms and his mouth, faking a yawn. “I’m just more tired than I thought. I might actually go and hit the hay.”

“Hay’s the best,” Soren agrees, not looking too torn up over the change of plans.

Ezran’s face is scrunched, though. “But we haven’t gotten to just have fun in  _ forever _ . And now we won’t have equal teams for a card game. Please stay Callum? Just for a little while?”

Callum teeters, battling between what he knows is trauma and disappointment in his duties as a big brother—Ezran has been looking forward to this all day and Callum is all he really has left—and his own limitations and how his feet feel like lead. He can’t quite get his voice to work.

“Nah, let your brother be a boring snooze,” Rayla trills, but she catches his eye and Callum knows that she knows, even as she turns away and grins at Ezran. “I’ll show you some elven card games Runaan and Ethari taught me—they’re made for three players anyway.”

“Ooh yes! I’ll still beat your ass,” Soren crows and then glances at Ezran. “I mean butt.”

Rayla rolls her eyes and thens ignores him and squeezes Callum’s shoulder. The slight pressure helps ground him, even before she leans up and presses a goodnight kiss to his cheek. “Get a good night’s rest, love,” she says.

All he can manage is a “You too,” and a grateful smile before he turns and leaves.

Close to two hours later, he’s still lying awake in bed when she enters their room, but he keeps his eyes closed when light peeks at the edges of his vision. “Callum?” Her voice is quiet, her steps hesitant. “Are you still awake?”

He stays silent. Normally, he doesn’t like to keep things bottled up like this, but no one else has a problem with the tower and he knows Rayla already has guilt over that night and Ezran has already dealt with it. He doesn’t want to drag him down, even if insomnia inches its away into his mind as Rayla changes in their bathroom and then slips into the bed across from his and he hears her fall asleep.

Eventually, though, he follows, but not for long. Callum wakes up, the dark door of his father’s chambers burned into the backs of his eyelids, his skin clammy and cold, his heart pounding.  _ Dad! _ dies half formed, unable to jump over the lump in his throat. His eyes are burning.

Rayla is beside him in a flash, a hand on his arm; she’s always been a light sleeper. “Callum. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

His heart and breath beat loud and uneven in his ears. “B-but—” He shuts his eyes to keep from crying but that just makes him feel  _ worse _ . “I couldn’t go up the tower because I—I  _ left _ him and—”

Rayla moves from kneeling beside the bed to sitting beside him (he can feel the mattress shift) and she takes his face in her hands. “Callum,” she says, firmly but gently. “ _ Look at me _ .” His eyes flutter open, wild and bright with tears, till he finds her face. His breaths still come out short and hoarse. “It’s okay. Come here.” 

She takes her hands away only to pull him into her arms, and Callum sobs into her shoulder, his own deflating the same way they did at the Nexus what feels like a lifetime ago. Eventually, the world stops spinning and narrows to the feeling of Rayla holding him and her soft murmurs and her fingers running through his hair, and his face feels blotchy and red, and he feels safe enough to pull away and look at her again.

“The tower still makes you think of that night,” she states softly and Callum nods his head, miserable. “Oh Callum, that’s okay.”

“But I don’t want to miss out on things,” he says, almost angrily—but not at her. “I already missed out on things with Ez tonight, I—this is my home. This should still get to be my home.”

Rayla exhales and studies him. Brushes his hair back from his sweaty brow. “Okay,” she says. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I...” Get over it sounds unfair, even to himself. He stops and starts again. “Process it, I guess? Move on.”

“That sounds good,” Rayla says encouragingly, and his lungs expand. She takes both his hands in hers and squeezes. “I said I would go back into that tower with you if you just said the word. That offer still stands.” She holds on tight to his hands. “It always will.”

There’s a heavy lightness in his chest that feels like hope, just because of how terrifying possible it is, but mostly he just feels love for her and loved by her. Callum squeezes back. “Okay.”

She curls up next to him this time when they fall asleep and he wakes, sore eyed but rested in the morning.

* * *

They take it, quite literally, one step at a time. 

They head to the tower one afternoon when Soren has shift duty and Ezran is busy answering messages in the throne room and the tower is empty except for the torchlight. The old door creaks open and Callum’s gut tenses, only slightly soothed by Rayla’s hand in his (and not for lack of love for her). 

He takes a deep breath as she squeezes his hand and stands on the first step. “Come on,” she says, “just look at me.”

So he does, trying to gaze only at her and not behind him at the memories, the steps steep and his legs shaky. More than once they have to stop, especially as they begin to round the curves of the staircase. It felt like behind every bend there would be an unfriendly elf assassin waiting, or his father’s ashes, or—it was in those moments that he gripped both the staircase railing and Rayla’s hand until the nausea passed.

Close to the top, sunlight streams in from the top floor’s window, like the light at the end of the tunnel, and it illuminates Rayla’s frame. She’s patient and smiling, grasping his hands, her eyes crinkled. Callum ambles onto the uppermost stair. Something in his chest eases.

As long as he can look ahead and see his future, maybe he doesn’t have to stay stuck behind in the shadows of his past.


End file.
